


Restoration

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Healing Sex, M/M, Sam as a Vessel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Sorry to bother you, but may I please request Gadreel using Sam as a vessel once more and healing Castiel with tender sex? And it helps regenerate grace or something along those lines. Thank you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restoration

Castiel. Even in his incarceration, Gadreel had heard of Castiel. A warrior, a leader, an inspiration. Now, he looks at the pained twist of Castiel’s face, the waning flicker of stolen grace that’s barely sustaining his existance, and feels the need to weep. 

It’s then that he turns to Sam. He expects outrage, truly, to be attacked or shouted at or kicked out for what he’s asking. For a moment, Sam’s face reflects the desire to do just that. But he glances over at Cas from where they stand in the doorway, the angel slumped at the table, face taut with pain while he stirs the food Dean is pressing on him. Sam nods once and sighs, the fight going out of him.

"Charlie and Dean are going into town Saturday," is all the man says before walking away before Gadreel can say more.

~~~~~~~~~~

A knock on Sunday morning announces Sam’s presence at his door, and he lets himself in without a word. Gadreel will leave his vessel here for the time being, empty as it is now that the soul that had once inhabited it has fled. Sam stands with arms crossed, tense and wary. 

"You’re sure this works?" he bites out eventually. 

"Yes. If I can connect with Castiel, bring our grace close, it will heal him. He’s too weak now to risk attempting this outside our vessels and yours … is familiar. You have a bond that we do not share and don’t have time to cultivate before his grace burns out."

And takes him with it, Gadreel thinks. 

Sam nods again, visibly forcing himself to relax. “Let’s go, then. Before Dean and Charlie get back.”

"Are you saying yes, Sam? You must be clear."

"Yes."

~~~~~~~~~

Sam is taller than his vessel, Gadreel notes as he readjusts to this body before leaving his room to find Castiel. His strides are longer as he walks the halls of the bunker in search of his brother.

Castiel is nodding off where he sits resting against the headboard of his bed, nearly empty cup of tea cradled in lax hands on his lap. Gingerly, Gadreel plucks the cup from them and sets it on the nearby table. The soft clink is enough to rouse him from his light slumber.

"Sam," he yawns. "What is it?"

"I’m not Sam," Gadreel says carefully, holding his hands up defensively as Castiel bolts upright in his seat. "I asked for his help, Castiel, and he consented." 

"Help with what?" the angel questions, eyes narrowed as they sweep over Sam’s body, taking note of the still-intact tattoo. 

"Healing you."

Silence hangs heavy between them for a moment, Castiel’s eyes widening as the meaning of Gadreel’s words sink in. 

"And he consented to this? You were honest with him about the details?" Castiel demands.

"I was very clear. Sam’s aware of… everything this process entails," Gadreel swallows a little, lowering his eyes. "Please, Castiel. Brother, let me help you." 

A quiet cough draws his gaze back up, and the other angel pats the bed next to him. He settles back against the headboard, willing to accept direction from Castiel if it means he’ll accept Gadreel’s help. Tentatively, he reaches out to rest his hand over Castiel’s, surprised at how cold and clammy his fingers are. He draws it up into his lap and holds it between his own, stroking over the lines of tendon and vein.

A gentle press of lips against the hand, then up against Castiel’s mouth. The other angel’s eyes are closed as he pulls away, fluttering open as he sits back up, moving to stand and Gadreel is sure they’re done. 

"Clothes," Cas says softly, unbuttoning his shirt and stepping out of his pants before Gadreel gathers himself enough to follow suit. Castiel carefully lays himself out on the bed, Gadreel positioning himself alongside him.

Sam, thankfully, knows how this goes, and Gadreel lets that knowledge guide his hands over Castiel’s skin, his lips through thorough kisses. He allows one hand to trail down, and is relieved to find that Castiel is hard. Gadreel takes him in hand and strokes slowly, pleased at the low groan it earns him. There’s lube in the bedside, according to Sam’s memory, the man having hid it there earlier this week. It makes the glide of flesh on flesh smoother, easier, and Gadreel works Castiel until he’s panting and writhing.

Pushing himself up, Gadreel settles himself between Castiel’s legs. Looking out across flushed skin and darkened eyes, Gadreel is conscious of how Castiel’s gaze drags over Sam’s body, the generous length of the cock between his legs. He parts his legs willingly for Gadreel, hooking them around slim hips to arch up, but he’s not ready for that. Not yet. 

More lube is warmed on his fingers, then gently spread over Castiel’s hole, rubbing and pushing one in slow. He pumps it slowly, spreading the lube and stretching Castiel carefully. Sam quietly insists on three fingers getting into Castiel, regardless of the soft pleas falling from the angel’s lips or how tightly clenched his hands are in the sheets.  Gadreel takes a moment and reaches out to soothe the white-knuckled grip, tangling their fingers together before gently placing Castiel’s hands back on the bed. 

Gadreel spreads the lube left on his fingers over his cock, shivering at the pleasurable touch, but this isn’t about him or his own pleasure. He pulls his grace to the forefront before pressing into Castiel. Tight heat is blindingly good, and he pulls Castiel’s hips up to meet his own. He settles over the other angel, clasping their hands together over Castiel’s head, pressed close as he thrusts tentatively, and watching for any signs of pain. The pace is as slow as they can stand, lips brushing together to allow for Castiel’s labored breaths. 

The body beneath Gadreel coils tighter and tighter, whimpers starting to escape on every breath out, and Castiel thrusts his hips up into every push in. Gadreel can sense the moment Castiel is going to come, willing his body to follow the course of pleasure. He seals their mouths together when it hits, the lines of their grace blurring together as they come. It holds for a moment, filling the room with light before going out in a gasp as Castiel pulls away. 

Looking down, its obvious that they’ve been successful. Castiel’s grace glows brightly, and the skin of his vessel has regained its healthy pallor. His panting, still, likely out of habit than necessity, and his eyes drift closed.

"Thank you," he breathes, opening eyes that are their normal bright blue. Gadreel dares to push for one more kiss, murmuring "You’re welcome," before pulling out. They lay side by side until their bodies cool, and Castiel sits up, softly explaining he’d like to shower. 

Gadreel redresses and leaves, making his way quickly back to his room regardless of the lingering ache in his chest. It’s still there when he settles into his own vessel, his door clicking shut behind Sam as he sits up on his bed. 

He’s never quite sure what story Castiel tells the others in regard to his sudden recovery. It’s certain that only he and Sam know the truth.


End file.
